Control
by c'estlame
Summary: PWP. Slash. Randy wants Amy, Wade Barrett's girlfriend, and she knows it. She takes pity on him and offers him the package deal...2-for-1, if he thinks he can handle it. Graphic content; MA.


**A/N:** OH HAI GUISE. Let me talk to you about my fic. I only got into wrestling very recently (sometime last year?) when my boyfriend flicked it on, and guess what? I fell in love with the feud between Randy & Wade, and like the pervert I am, regularly tuned in to see them touching each other. It just so happens that "I-hate-you-but-this-feels-so-good" has been a big kink of mine since forever, and no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't find any Randy/Wade slash fic out there. So I decided to follow Rule 34(a) of the Internet and make my own! There is a girl in here too, who basically acts as a catalyst for these two to get together. I tried to make her as plain as possible, so if any readers of the fic find themselves identifying with her and imagining themselves in her place, well, that's just a happy misfortune. _

**WARNINGS: **This fic is **PWP** or **Porn Without Plot.** It contains extremely graphic sex. Please do not read if you are underage in your country. There is a male/male/female threesome and yes, there is male-on-male action, so if that offends you, this is not for you. There is an established open relationship, so, um, if that's weird to you for some reason I would stay away. Now down to the sexy warnings. This is a list of what this fic contains, so if you don't want spoilers, skip ahead, but if you want to check nothing in here massively freaks you out, here we go: threesome (m/m/f), double penetration, anal sex, bondage, choking, orgasm denial, a hint of painplay, and TOO MANY RUN ON SENTENCES. It's got a weird writing style because it's told from Randy's POV, so you're in his head. And it hasn't been beta'd or edited. And it's a fucking 10K monster, rawr.

Ok. I think that's everything. I hope someone out there enjoys it.

She was driving Randy mad.

Her name was Amy. Brunette. 5' 8". DD. And Wade Barrett's girlfriend.

She sure as hell didn't act like it. Everyone was game to her – no matter man or woman, superstar or soundcrew. He saw her charm them, flirtily lick her lips, twirl her curls around her finger, sway her hips. What did he care? It was no pretence that he and Barrett did not get along – it was nothing to Randy if the girl was a flirt.

But somewhere coiling in the heat of his stomach, it was. She stirred him. He knew he was being played. And he knew she knew he knew. She didn't care either. She even made a joke out of it. Like it was a secret between them. When she chewed her lip and stared up at him with those huge brown eyes, she looked so fucking _innocent _that he wanted – he didn't even know what he wanted. And then she would smirk, and he would go crazy again. His head would be filled with the roar of his pounding blood and nothing else, and he'd find himself pressing her against a wall, trapping her between his arms, looming over her and hard and she would give him this coy little glance and tilt her head and slip out, brushing her hand against him and - she was a bitch. A crazy bitch. But he sort of loved it.

He started beating Barrett harder, just to try and take it out on her. He'd see her before the match, hanging off Wade's arm and shooting him these furtive _looks _and then standing on her tiptoes and planting a kiss on her boyfriend's cheek – and that would turn into fully-fledged tonsil hockey, not without a little bit of groping, and then _Barrett _ would look at him and smirk and act all smug, like he knew everyone wanted his girlfriend. Fuck, Randy wanted her. He wanted her on the floor every time he saw her. And seeing her make such a show with Barrett made him feel like some kind of voyeur, something dirty, like she was doing it just for him. And then Barrett would stare at him with those icy-blue eyes that cut to Randy's core and he would be such a swirling mess of intensity that somehow it all got took out on Barrett in the match. Barrett did not seem to mind. He kept right on taunting Randy. _I'm in your head. _

The truth was, Wade Barrett was...interesting. He could really fight. He was bigger, holding perhaps an inch or two over Randy, and built sturdier and stronger. That he also refused to allow Randy the psychological advantage frustrated the superstar to no end. Their feud had been planned, of course – he just hadn't expected so many raw feelings to actually get involved. He thought he actually _hated _ Barrett for daring to challenge him. Nothing was better than getting his hand wrapped in the other man's hair and pulling him along, making him crawl on his knees, throwing him into the ring and seeing the breath knocked out of him – and then Randy'd look up, and Amy would be there, ringside, staring at him and her lips would sort of pout and her hand would just be brushing over her breast and he would get so _angry. _

It had gone on like this for months. He and Barrette feuded onstage and off – he only had to step in a room to know if Barrett was in there, tension crackling across the room like lightening as everyone held their breath. Then the bigger man would barge past him, slamming their shoulders together, and Amy would skip after him, eyeing Randy all the time. And then Randy would feel it again, seething angry and hot and somehow messy inside, a little turned on but mostly wanting to fucking dominate something or someone before he exploded.

But one day, he just exploded.

He had just watched Barrett push her up against a wall, tongue down her throat, her small hands palming at his trunks and she had fucking _moaned _ and Randy had barely held onto his self control as he stalked back around the corner. He paced the corridor there, waiting for his name to be called, feeling the blood and heat drain to his cock and trying to suppress it when she came around the corner.

_Let me know where he hurts you and I'll come kiss it better afterwards. _

And without thinking, his hand shot to her hair, and he spat _what if it's my cock?_

And Amy looked up at him with those huge brown eyes and sank to her knees, right there in the middle of the corridor, and pressed her face to his crotch, pressed her lips, her mouth, against him, hot even through the shorts, and he felt the wetness of her tongue and suddenly his head was spinning and there was no hope in trying to stop it, he was hard, and he looked down and she was still looking up at him, still moving over his cock with those huge oh-so-innocent eyes on his own –

Then she took her mouth away, and said a single word. _Threesome?_

His hand was still in her hair – he threw her head aside, blood pounding, rock hard, swirling inside, frustrated and angry and horny and confused, and he walked away from her, back to where he should be, back to his match, trying to focus –

And Wade Barrett was stood there in the corridor, leaning up against the wall where he'd been kissing his girl not a minute ago, arms folded and he casually glanced over at Randy and and and his eyes fucking _dipped _ to Randy's crotch, he saw, he smirked and before Randy could even process that (and the bulge in Barrett's shorts, oh god), his name was being called and he was walking out in front of thousands of people and hoping to _hell_ that he wasn't about to come in his pants.

That match got pretty messy.

Randy always prided himself on self-control in the ring. He was the viper, lightening fast, quick, agile, measured attacks. He could not be touched. But Barrett seemed to be trying his best. His hands were everywhere – even when Randy had him on his knees, Barrett curled his fingers into Randy's thighs, lifted his head and gave him such a burning look that Randy almost screamed aloud in frustration. He wanted to punish Barrett for making him face this, for managing to win even when he was at Randy's mercy, for being so- so fucking intense and for putting their bodies together, for the slick of their sweat and for just _looking _ at him that way, for _planning_ this...! No matter where he threw the larger man, Barrett came crawling back, slamming his shoulder into Randy's stomach, landing a kick to his jaw, filling him so full of adrenaline and then, _then, _ pulling his wasteland – slipping a hand between Randy's thighs, pawing at his ass and lifting him above his head until it was all Randy could do to hang on to Barrett's biceps.

He slipped out of it – he was meant to win this one – but he had no patience for the set routine. He wanted this to end _now. _ Now, before he felt any more of Barrett pushing against him, and before he had to think about what those looks meant, and before the friction against his hard cock made him do anything he'd regret. He slammed the man to the mat and laid over him, hissing in his ear: _tell your girlfriend I said no. _

Barrett got the message. He didn't move. The ref hit three – Randy's theme music started up, but there was none of the calm it usually signalled. This victory was hollow. Randy did not want, for once, to bask in its glory – he wanted to get offstage and wank until he was raw, and then he wanted to punch something very hard. He was seething. His breath came in great pants as he tried to calm himself, his shoulders heaving. His walk back offstage was stiff and controlled, his face a mask, and he deliberately turned left instead of right, avoiding where he knew she'd be waiting. It was a longer route, but that just gave him more time to clear his head. He felt like he was drunk – and in his reckless rage, he wanted to _get _drunk, anything to clear his head, to make him forget what had just happened, what he felt.

He sped up, grinding his teeth together, clenching and unclenching his fists. He all but kicked his door open when he got there, and went straight to the wardrobe, rummaging around at the bottom of it amidst a jumble of boxes until he found what he was looking for. Whiskey. He screwed the top off and didn't even take a gulp – he took a draft, as much as he could bear, holding it to his mouth for a good thirty seconds and feeling his throat burn. He wanted it to kick in as soon as possible, and only then would he sit on his bed, drunk, and wank, and let himself think about whoever he wanted to because he wouldn't remember it in the morning. He broke off and took a gulp of air, then raised the bottle to his lips again, pouring it straight down his throat. It was a large one, but it soon ran dry. Frustrated as he was, Randy resisted the urge to throw the thing aside and put it down carefully. He flopped onto his bed, head spinning, already questioning his actions, when she stormed in.

"You're a fucking pussy."

Randy rose, eyes narrowed. "What did you say to me?"

"I said, you're a FUCKING PUSSY," Amy yelled. "Your precious self-control is a sham because you can't face the truth."

He swayed on his feet. "What is the truth?"

"You want to fuck me. But you're afraid."

Randy started to laugh. "Afraid? Of what?"

"You know I can do things to you that would shatter that self-control. I'd make you beg. You'd never allow yourself to experience something this intense because _you can't handle it." _

Randy punched her in the face. And then he kissed her.

They stumbled about the room in each other's arms, Randy's hands cradling her face, Amy's scrabbling at his trunks. She didn't seem to give a damn that he'd struck her, only that she was fiercely determined not to lose the battle of their tongues. She bit his bottom lip and dug her nails into his hips, whined right into his mouth. Randy staggered backwards until he fell onto his bed, her on top of him, until in a messy roll they were somehow sideways and she was under him again and he was ripping off her shirt, she was dragging her hand against the front of his trunks, throwing her head back and he went for her throat, bit and sucked and ground into her hand, so hard, and he thrust weakly when she groaned and rubbed at him, and he was, shit, he was suddenly drunk –

Amy shoved at his shoulder and rolled out from under him, jumped up and wriggled out of her skirt, kicked off her shoes. She stood there in her bra and panties, hands on her hips, regarding Randy as he rolled over to stare at her.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Randy said nothing.

"It means Wade as well. I want to hear you say it."

He wouldn't.

"SAY IT."

"..._Yes,_" burst from him at last, and just like that, Amy fell on him again, smothering him in kisses, sliding to her knees and tugging off his kneepads, his boots. Randy struggled to sit up. The world had suddenly got very dizzy, very quickly. He felt her doing something to his ankles, but when he looked down he could only see the top of her head near his crotch, and he almost moaned, and the pressure in his dick seemed to increase even more. Amy looked up, and smiled, and then her fingers were under the band of his trunks at last, and she was pulling them down over his legs and his cock sprang free.

She crawled onto the bed. "Lie down."

He did so, and Amy slithered up his body and laid on top of him, pressing into him, fixing her small hands around his wrists and lifting them above his head. Using her left hand to keep them there, she used her right to draw forth two long silk strips from the cups of her bra, neatly tying one to each wrist as Randy tried mindlessly to rub against her, eyes rolling back in his head.

She cupped his face in her hands and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "Randy. I need to know you're okay with this. You can say stop anytime."

His glare was answer enough, but he replied anyway. "Tie me up, or I will fucking kill you for being such a cocktease."

Amy obeyed, quickly spreading his arms and tying them to their respective corners of the bedframe. She slipped down his body to his ankles – that's what she'd been doing, the sneaky bitch – and looped the ties around the slats of the bed quickly until he was restrained. She hopped off his when she had finished and looked him over. His chest was heaving and sweat dotted his brow, but she was most interested in the hard cock that lay nestled in his dark curls. She ran a finger up his thigh, just skirting past touching him there. "You have no idea how good you look like this," she told him matter-of-factly, and Randy just glowered at her. He was tense and hyperaware – so at the smallest noise, his eyes shot over her shoulder to the door.

It had opened, and there in the doorway leaned Wade Barrett.

Randy's dick twitched and molten lava swirled in his stomach when Barrett looked him in the eyes, then looked him over. He felt a jolt between his groin and his stomach and could not tell if he was more turned on or more afraid. He realised he was tied down, and then he was _definitely _ a bit afraid, and he tried to calm himself and slow his breathing. Amy rose and walked over to stand by her boyfriend's side. He had changed in the minutes after the match – now in dark denim jeans and a white button down shirt, he somehow looked very much in control. Randy tore his gaze away from the cold blue eyes, trying to look anywhere else. He noticed the other man had bare feet and fought the insane urge to laugh. Instead, he turned his head and looked very hard at the ceiling until the noises drew him back in.

Amy raised a hand and curled her fingers in the crisp white shirt, rising on her tiptoes and kissing the other man. Barrett enveloped her, his right hand smoothly undoing her bra while his left slid down to her underwear. He gently rubbed her through her panties, slowly, kissing her openly, messily, lazily – Amy whimpered. He parted from her and threw her bra aside after she wiggled out of it, his left hand still slowly rubbing against her. And as hard as he tried to drag his eyes away, Randy couldn't help but watch. Amy looked up at Barrett with an air of expectant obedience, and the man traced the index finger of his right hand over her lips.

"Please him."

Randy didn't think it was possible to get any harder, but hearing Barrett's silky, deep voice order his girlfriend so made his cock pulse. Amy nodded and turned her eyes back on Randy, slinking towards him, sliding out of her panties as she approached. She crawled between his legs and lowered her mouth to his crotch, and then the world became red and pink and warm and wet and tight and Randy's hips bucked as much as they could and his shoulders were straining and she was such a fucking tease. Her mouth moved slowly down his shaft, her fingers wrapped around his base, the other hand tickling lightly over his balls, and Randy brushed the brink of madness. Ever so slowly, she slid her mouth back up to the head of his cock, pressed her tongue to the underside and he thrashed in his bonds and groaned. After a pause that seemed to last an eternity, Amy began to bob her head, setting up a rhythm painfully, deliberately unsatisfying, her hand very softly jacking the base of Randy's cock and he was biting almost clean through his lip trying to stop himself from swearing or begging or crying, he didn't know which. When her fingertips danced over his balls again, he made a desperate grunt. The last remaining corner of his brain remembered the word "embarrassment" but didn't seem to be able to apply it because it was too busy laughing hysterically, and he squeezed his eyes shut as Amy began her ascent again, gently hollowing her cheeks.

The bed sank a little. "Shut him up," Barrett growled.

Randy began panting again as he felt her mouth leave him, opened his eyes but refused to look down, fixating on the ceiling directly above him when Amy's lovely pussy came into view. She straddled his face and looked down at him, stroked her fingers along his cheekbone, and that was when a hotter, tighter mouth closed around Randy's cock. He cried out, a guttural sound of surprise and pleasure, and his hips bucked, the top of his cock hitting the back of Barrett's throat. Amy lowered herself onto his mouth, and Randy felt a large hand wrap around the base of his shaft, rough and warm, and begin to pump as he moaned into her pussy. He began to lick as best he could, scraping his teeth gently across her clit, then darting his tongue actually inside her. He struggled to concentrate as his head swam and Barrett continued to suck him off, not teasing like Amy had, rough and quick and oh-so-sweet after he had waited so long. Amy's fingers massaged his scalp and she hummed happily as he continued his ministrations as best he could, flicking his tongue, tasting her sweet warm wetness, sharp and good, making her gasp and shudder, dig her fingers into him, tracing his tongue to spell out her name, sucking her, gently hinting at nibbling and then fucking her with his tongue as _ohgod _ Barrett starts doing _something_ to him and he doesn't know what but it makes him moan into her again, and the idea of his enemy down there, the one who looked so powerful moments ago sucking his cock makes Randy ache inside.

He can't do it any more – his jaw hurts and he can't even figure out how to move a single muscle in his body. It feels like Barrett's grip on his cock, his hot mouth, is melting everything inside, and Randy gives up trying, until Amy slips down him and presses her mouth against his, tasting herself. Her tongue flicks out against his lips and he parts them weakly, reduced to a few spasms of the hips, barely holding back the moans as Barrett continues his assault. Amy seems to realise she's not getting anything out of him and slides a little further down his body, nuzzling his neck until she _gasps _ and it takes Randy a moment to figure out what's happening but it turns out Barrett's a very talented guy and probably ambidextrous. He doesn't let up pumping on Randy's dick, but Amy's moaning and writhing and the most filthy things come out of her mouth (_more oh deeper please please oh god jesus more Wade baby please harder, HARDER) _ and then she's biting Randy's neck and nibbling his ear and his dick is still warm and wet and there's sliding and heat and pressure and tightness in his balls and _fuckshitfuck_ Barrett's doing _ohgod_ and it's so good and he presses his lips together and won't allow himself to make a peep but that just makes it worse and Amy is still talking _(god, Wade, I want your cock, please, please fuck me, oooh c'mon, please, yes, more, more, fuck me Wade, your fingers are so good I'm gonna – oooooh, please, don't stop, fuck you, tease, I just want – I just, oooh) _ and Randy is trying to thrash and writhe but he's all tied down and he think he's going to come down Barrett's throat and the world is red and his blood is hot and pounding and then –

The tight heat around his dick is gone and tears come to his eyes at the effort not to cry out, but Amy is scrabbling at his wrists and suddenly his hands are free again. Amy climbs off him and for the first time, Randy looks at Wade Barrett, who has just sucked his dick. He's not looking at Randy. The fucker didn't even take his clothes off. He's knelt there in his dark jeans and a white shirt and there's just a couple of strands of his black hair falling over his forehead, like this is a completely casual everyday exercise for him. His hands are around Randy's ankles, untying the ropes, except he draws them loose and wraps them around his knuckles when he's done. And then he looks up.

Randy feels his nerves set alight as Barrett's eyes hit him – his chest roars and curls in on itself, edges glowing. A bead of precum slips down the side of his wet dick, cold in the air, and Randy pushes himself up into a sitting position and he can't help but stare. His breath seems to be caught in his throat and something inside him is rising, hot, possibly rage combined with the urge to throw Barrett down and push his dick past those lips again, but this time he wants to call the shots, he wants to fuck that mouth _hard _ and use him, and he feels like a fucking animal –

Then Amy is between them again, and she's kneeling and facing Randy and lifting her hands and she must know what's coming because Barrett slips one of the silk strips around her wrists, ties them together above her head, and uses the other one as an impromptu rope – and they've clearly fucking thought this through and planned it because Randy has never paid much attention to the light fitting but Barrett ties the silk around it, leaving his girlfriend kneeling up on the bed, knees spread and hands suspended above her head, pulling her body taunt, and Amy's chest is rising and falling pretty quickly, her lips parted a little but her mouth falls open and her head back when Barrett runs his fingers over her thigh from behind –

"Oh please, please, _please,"_

But he ignores her. She's facing Randy, full-frontal, while the other man feels her up from behind, tracing his fingertips lightly across her stomach and dragging them over her nipples, smoothing his palms down her sides and edging towards her pussy but stopping _just _ short. Amy moans in frustration but Randy likes it. Let her see how it feels. Her face is flushed and she bites at her lip, rocking her hips against the air, begging for attention. Randy can smell her, sweaty and sexy, can smell her pheromones and her wetness, and he wants to throw himself at her and fuck her like a madman but he restrains himself. Barrett's huge hands are still wandering her body, slowly, massaging her thighs and rubbing circles over her hips, working closer, closer until he brushes a thumb over her clit and her whole body _shudders-_

"Why don't you just fuck me already?"

Barrett's lips are gliding over her neck, and Randy sees him smile, then laugh into her skin. "Beg me."

"I am. Wade, _please,_ I am _begging_ you..."

"I'm not convinced."

"Please, oh god, please, just fuck me. I need it, I'm so – _aaah..."_

She melts against his body when his fingers begin to explore her, and Barrett lifts his face from her skin and looks Randy in the eye. "I think we should let our guest have the honour."

His other hand is rummaging in the pocket of his jeans, and he holds out a small silver packet. Randy, suddenly galvanized, crawls forward and takes it, torn between feeling ashamed of his nudity or being too horny to care. He rips it open and quickly rolls the condom onto his dick, not looking up, actually _blushing. _He's kneeling up too now, so close to her, and he can feel the heat coming off her, hear her breathy little keening noises, and Wade tells him –

"She's been a good girl. You don't have to tease her. Fuck her hard."

Amy makes a long, drawn-out sigh and lightning strikes right through Randy and seems to churn, burning, in his stomach. His hand catches her hip whilst the other one guides his cock into her, and the angle is a little awkward at first but he gets it, he slides in, and there is nothing, _nothing_ like this. He looks up into her face and the big brown eyes are wide and so alive that he knows she is feeling the same way. And then there is no more time for abstract feelings, there's only the here and now, the heat, the wetness, the tightness, the nerve melting, dizzying movement, the snap of his hips and plunging into her, her delicious white throat, the noises she makes, soft cries, needy and desperate, and he's drunk but this really is happening, this is truly amazing – and he's a machine, fucking her hard, as ordered, harder and harder, slamming into her, making her call out in pleasure, one hand still on her hip and the other finding her clit again, gently rubbing, biting at her throat, sucking –

"She's gonna get louder."

And amidst the blur of sound and sensation, Randy somehow slows down a little, pauses, and hears her: _oh Wade yes yes yes please yes do it oh OH god you're – fucking huge – uh, OH, god, yes, fuck..._and he can, he can – fucking _feel _ it, he can feel Wade through her, and the way his cock is rubbing inside her and the way she's – she's _filled _ and he can feels it when Wade starts to move in her ass and he's damn well going to move too and then there's all sorts of rubbing and wetness and Amy is no longer moaning but all out screaming despite Barrett telling her to shut up, shut up, and Randy is ever so close and he starts to rub her roughly, fuck her as hard as he can, dips his head to lick at her breasts, mindless, reduced to feeling, the whole world shrank to his senses and the size of his dick, the pulse of his blood, her sweat, her screams, which suddenly stop, and he looks up and Barrett's hand is wrapped around her throat, squeezing a little, and that's another hot instinctive throb throughout his body, of power, of control, and he sees her face, the fucking ecstasy on her face, and he loses it.

In one, two strokes, he cums in her, still furiously stroking her clit, still thrusting deep into her, feeling Barrett the other side, seeing her face until his eyes screw shut and his own mouth opens, panting and groaning, his neck lolling back, her tightening around him, slowing down, done now, just feeling her body move with the force of Barrett's thrusts, her coming down from her aftershock and Barrett grunts and Randy knows he's done too, and slowly they all come to a rest. Randy's panting. He shouldn't have drank the whiskey. Everything is a little funny but a whole lot incredible. He feels Barrett pull out of her and does the same, tugging off the condom and knotting it, throwing it aside, feeling his thighs weak and shaky, sitting down on the bed, trying to catch his breath. He hears Barrett zip his jeans back up (egotistical bastard fucked her with his clothes still on and just his dick out (damn, that shouldn't be hot but _it is_)) and watches him let Amy down, untie her wrists, let her lean back into him as she sighs. He places a butterfly kiss on her throat where there are angry red marks from his fingers.

"You ok?" he asks quietly.

She turns her head and catches his lips with hers, kisses him softly. "You know just what I need. I love it when you choke me."

And Randy knows he's watching something between them that they had kept hidden until now – something more than flirting and sex to draw him in, the truth of them, the nature of their intimacy, and somehow he was more comfortable fucking her brains out then seeing this.

Maybe Amy guesses. She looks straight at him and grins. Any innocence that was ever in her eyes has been replaced with a mischievous glint. "You wanna go again?"

Randy is all ready to impress her with the fact that he's been blessed with no refractory period when she continues. "I mean, with him."

"Whoa! Hey, what? No, no way. I don't swing that way," Randy argues. His hard cock and the fire in his belly disagree. Barrett appears to disagree as well. He snorts.

"Whatever, Orton," he says in that low, rough voice, amused. His eyes catch Randy in their gaze, pin him. "Keep telling yourself that."

"I don't want to fuck you," Randy spits, but he has _no fucking idea why _he says that, because he definitely _does_ want to fuck Barrett and ugh, Barrett fucking knows it. Rage rises within him a little, and he glares at the other man, feeling it, still achingly hard and even though he's only just cum _hell yes _he is ready to throw down again, to _dominate_ Barrett, to punch him and then screw that goddamn smirk off his face. No. No. He's not gay. Fuck. Get it together.

"Fine," Amy interrupts his confused train of thought. "Fuck _me._"

And she slides down Barrett's body until she is lying on her back on the bed, spreads her legs wide, wraps them around him and Randy snatches the second condom Barrett offers it and rips it open with his teeth, all but jams it on himself and roughly grabs Amy's hips, tilts them, and slams back into her again. His balls slap against her and this angle is so much better for getting deeper, and Amy is whining again, lifting her legs over his shoulders until her ankles meet around his neck, one hand fiddling with her nipple, the other frantically rubbing her clit again. Her eyes are closed and Randy looks at her gorgeous face, her red bitten lips, the hicky on her throat as he's fucking her, listens to her, and he is hyper aware of her, of how to make her happy, constantly analysing her body and his, the way they move, the speed, the angle, the direction and depth of his thrust plotted against her volume, and then he looks up.

For a split second, he almost loses control.

He falters, because Barrett has his dick out. He's sitting there at the head of the bed, watching Randy fuck his girlfriend, still in that godamn white button down shirt like this is a formal dinner but now his jeans are pushed down past his hips and his dick is right there, just below black curls, and his hand is pumping furiously up and down, in time with Randy's thrusts, jerking himself off, and he catches Randy looking and tries to smirk but it only flashes on for a second and then his face falls back into a shameful, greedy pleasure, desperately touching himself, and that is the hottest fucking thing Randy has seen all night: Wade Barrett, unashamedly open, no longer posturing or pretending or smirking or trying to drive Randy wild, and the weird part is that in and of itself is what ends up driving Randy almost completely mad.

He supposes he must have stopped because Amy is looking up at the two of them and her voice draws him back to the present.

"Will you two please, _please_ just..."

She trails off, and Randy doesn't quite know what she's asking, but he looks back up from her to Barrett who is still and serious and he gives the smallest nod.

Amy gasps and he looks back down at her and starts fucking away again, mouth tight and lips pressed together and as good as she feels it's not quite enough to make him forget what he might have just agreed to. Barrett is kicking his jeans off and slips off the bed and Randy feels it dip behind him a minute later and is tempted to turn around right there because if Barrett has somehow got the idea that he can fuck Randy in the ass he is SEVERLY mistaken and in fact Randy isn't sure there is anything he would be willing to let Barrett do to him, certainly not fuck him and definitely not kiss him and there's no way-

Then Barrett's hand touches his shoulder and although he falters he's got enough presence of mind to keep going this time, determined, and Amy's getting a little bit louder and it's not so hard to ignore Barrett's hands on his back because he's feeling awfully good right now and _ah_ that's what Barrett is doing. He's melting Randy's muscles. He's sweeping his strong fingers in patterns over Randy's back, pushing against the tension, tracing the muscles groups, digging his fingers into Randy's trapezius, stroking and conducting all sorts of electricity through his fingers, and Randy keeps on fucking and getting a free massage and he's starting to feel warm all over. Barrett's thumbs dance circles over his shoulder blades and then his fingers walk all over Randy's back, trace the bones of his spine, and it's – it's –

He's fucking Amy fast now, breathing hard, keeping his cool, although it all feels so good he just wants to, to, yell out almost. He almost does, sucks in air through his teeth, when he feels something cold hit his back, and Barrett begins massaging him, spreading his palms and rubbing, and it's nice, it's really, really nice, and Amy is nice under him, and the world is out of focus and dizzy and everything is very good right now, and Barrett's hands and knuckles are counting his ribs and almost approaching pain when he pushes a bit harder which makes Randy groan aloud and curse himself afterwards. Barrett's hands slip to the small of his back, then rise to his shoulder blades, brush over his sides, stroke his neck, trace his spine, and then those hands are on his ass, kneading the muscles in his cheeks, running a thumb over the back of his thighs, then they're back on his shoulders, and his spine, and Randy is so confused and so hot right now, sides, shoulders, neck, spine, ass, sides, small of his back, tracing and drawing then pushing and sometimes cool, sometimes hot, and there is a thin sheen of sweat between them, and when Barrett's hand slips down the crack of his ass to play with his balls he can't bring himself to care.

Time drags on and Barrett's hands are everywhere at once and Amy is writhing under him and the coolness on his back compared with her heat is driving Randy mad, and his head is spinning from the alcohol and the orgasm and if Wade's fingers are brushing his asshole then he's too drunk to care, that's what he tells himself, and there's a gnawing curiousity in his stomach to see what it's all about but Barrett's fingers are moving again, stroking him everywhere, and he almost mourns their loss and Amy digs her nails into his biceps and tosses her head to the side and he snaps his hips again and there's a drunken sort of dance between the three of them, a tangible energy, a rhythm and Barrett's hands are back _there_ but no, he moves again and it's, it's, ugh, Randy almost wishes he would just do it, then there's more cold on his back, and sliding and patterns he can't imagine, and that sort of massage that makes him half want to just flop over Amy and stop all movement because his muscles are melting and Amy is getting more and more desperate-

Again, and again, and again, Barrett traces his circuit, again, and again, and again, brushing his fingers over there, lingering, cold and wet and then moving on after just a fractional hesitation and Randy is getting so frustrated that honestly, really truly honestly deep down inside he just wants to know what it's all about and how it really feels and he almost tells Barrett to man up and do it but he's too busy pumping away inside Amy, rocking against her, back and forth, back and forth, and this time Barrett's fingers finally stay there but they move with Randy, and as he tries to pull out of Amy a little and push back onto them, they yield to him, moving back with him, and he plunges forward again and they come, a light little pressure over his asshole, tempting, teasing and Randy is actually getting frustrated now that Barrett won't do it and Amy begins to clench her muscles around him in time with his strokes, laughing a little to herself, and Randy grits his teeth and growls and somehow finds himself saying _fucking do it. _

Barrett slips a single finger inside him and it's fucking weird and Randy freezes – he's all ready to take it back and forget the whole thing when something happens, something _pushes_ and the whole Earth tilts around him. Amy gasps and he feels her manoeuvre out from underneath him but all he can see is white hot sparks and his hands let go of her and then without instruction, without his mind even considering the idea, he finds his body leaning forward and his hands stretching out to the headboard and it would be the most humiliating movement and position, to offer Barrett more, if he was capable of feeling anything other than...that. His breath is ragged and his cock is suddenly very heavy, his balls tight and everything is spinning until he is only able to suck in air and try and inhabit his body, trying and take all the pleasure on offer and not squirm or scream from it all because _fuck _ this is intense, this is- oh god, he's – this – it –

"Don't let him come," Barrett warns, and just like that Amy's fingers are snaking around the base of his cock and cutting him off, holding him tightly and Randy somehow manages to stutter out a curse and a threat- _fuck – don't you...dare..._and Barrett's laughing and then he sort of punishes him with this cruel twist and Randy bites back a sob because he is so so hard that it is bordering the edge of pain now, and he feels Barrett slip another finger in him, stretch him, and it is still weird but he would do _anything _ for that sweetness to continue, he's almost out of his mind. Amy's fingers tickle at his balls and Barrett is fucking him with his fingers now, each stroke making something inside Randy tighter and hotter with anticipation, and sweat is rolling down his shoulders, and he tastes blood from his bottom lip and his knuckles are white and his toes are curling and lightning licks his dick and behind his groin is this slow burn, like he is being picked apart by pleasure, and he – he's embarrassed to admit it but he _whimpers. _

"What do you want?" Barrett asks, and Randy is about to reply _I want to cum you fucking idiot, _when the man says something else. A single word. "More?"

There is all sorts of things wrapped up in that syllable.

And Randy hesitates because he _knows _ what Barrett is asking, and he hears the smallest of groans from behind him, and then he hears the rough, ragged plea:

"I could drive you wild, if you'd just let me."

And Randy loses it, he loses all dignity, all self control, he isn't even in his own body anymore because his mouth falls open and he says it:

"Yeah. Okay."

And Barrett doesn't give him the time to think twice, he rubs his prostate again before withdrawing his hand and slathers more cool lube all over Randy's ass and somewhere in between the thrill in his stomach and the rising tension, just so that he doesn't have to think about what's about to happen, Randy wonders if these sheets are ever going to be clean again. Then there's a hand on his hip and a cool, wet pressure, and before he can even take a deep breath in to steady himself, there's a smooth slide and and and just like that Wade Barrett is inside him. There's a whisper of pain but he forgets about it as he hears a reverent sigh from behind him and then Wade starts to _push_ and it seems like there is no end, inch by slow inch, and Randy panics a little but then a hand finds his shoulder, bunched tight with tension, and Wade just squeezes it a little, and Randy stops trying to fight it, lets it all go, and he realises he's been holding his breath this whole time and tastes air again, slowly, a little uncertain hitch in his breath because he's not sure how he got here anymore and he's going to blame it on the alcohol coursing through his blood but the truth is he's having one of those horrible moments of sobriety. The kind that usually occur in the bathroom when you realise how drunk you are and stare down and know that this, _this, _will be what you remember tomorrow.

The hand drops from his shoulder and slides around to his cock, and Randy realises he's soft again, but before he can be humiliated Wade wraps around him (wasn't Amy there a minute ago?) and begins to work him, and he's good, and Randy's body is responding very readily and he can't exactly _forget _ about the cock in his ass but for now he can concentrate on his own dick. It's – it's weird but not painful and he's struggling to really think beyond what he feels, which is the blood rushing south again, his head spinning, and he feels Wade's thighs against his own, Wade's front pressing to his back (skin, he thinks, and at least – at _last _- that stupid shirt is gone) and he can feel his heat and it's still freaking him out just a little and then he hears Wade murmur _oh, fuck, _and there's that same sort of desperate hotness within him that got him in this damn situation, and he's ready now, he's ready for Wade to move and find whatever was making him mad before, but the hand on his cock is slowing, teasing, and horniness battles with anger.

Amy's hands are back on his dick, but she has another one of those godamned motherfucking silk strips and she is tying it around the base of his cock – not too tight, but tight enough – well, he knows what it's for, it's just enough to prevent him from cumming and he has no patience for this shit. He's not prepared to sit here and let these two fuck him around for their own amusement, and he's just about ready to chew Barrett out. His shoulders tense, and he's trying to figure out if he can twist fast enough to land a punch (he imagines) Barrett's smug grinning face when Barrett _bites _ him. He fucking bites him, where his shoulder meets his neck, _hard_ and Randy sort of jerks forward but in that moment he knows he's lost. Because Barrett really is in his head. He is going to give Randy _everything _ that Randy would never dare ask for because he knows what Randy wants and what Randy wants is more of that delicious pain, and he – he hates it, but – but being challenged and being...he can't say it, he can't. Dare he think it? Being...dominated has been something he has been craving in the secret dark of night because he's been too strong for far too long and he wants someone to _ah. _

Barrett's arm is wrapped round his chest, holding him upright, pulling him back, and he's pressed into him so tight that he feels every little shift of the man's hips, and then they start to fuck in earnest. The hand on his cock begins to pump again, steady, and he knows that this ride is going to be a long one – the wild sort of speed that brought his first orgasm has been sacrificed for a slow pace, a slow burn, something almost like – like water rising, pressure increasing ever so gradually, getting deeper and deeper. Randy doesn't know what to do with his hands – the only thing he can think of it putting one of them on top of Wade's on his dick, but that's too gay (_you're getting fucked in the ass by a dude, _the voice in his head screams) and then he remembers Amy and, arms limply by his sides, fists clenched, he looks for her and she is sitting watching them, furiously rubbing at her clit, biting her lip and flushed, her other hand bunched in the bedcovers and she lets out a little gasp when Randy's half-closed eyes land on her.

"Reach back and touch him," she instructs, and Randy doesn't really question it, he's in it now, so he reaches his hands back and finds Wade's thighs and tries to appreciate them as one wrestler might another. They're strong – thick, well muscled, and taunt at the minute, hard with effort. The skin is smooth and warm to the touch and he sort of digs his fingernails in (it's still only a wrestling appreciation, it's not gay, it's _not)_ and Wade seems to go a little bit mad and starts fucking like an animal and Randy's thrust forward with the force of it and he ends up on his hands and knees (how fucking humiliating) and then he starts shaking all over and Wade's body is pressed into his, and Wade's _dick_ is pressed into him, and he's there again, and every stroke is hitting that spot, and it's getting faster and faster and Randy finds himself making all sorts of stupid noises and moans and tries to stop himself and Wade must realise because he laughs again and his grip shifts and suddenly he's not just _hitting_ the spot, he's dragging across it and _ugh_ Randy can't stop the noises spilling out now, breathy little gasps and he growls in frustration but Wade is soothing his cock, squeezing ever so gently and – and and –

He's too horny to care, he feels like his body is drawing in on itself, everything is falling inside him in a jumble of hot nerves until he is reduced to a dense core of pleasure, and every – single – stroke – that, that _thing_ inside him is exploding like a supernova and dragging everything else down with it and he doesn't know how much more he can take, he's given up all dignity and he is panting and groaning and starting to move his own hips in rhythm, thrusting forward into Wade's palm and back to meet him again, harder and harder and Wade's other hand just lightly brushes over his throat and Randy thinks he's about to get choked and he really, really wouldn't mind and his hips spasm a little bit in anticipation but Wade pulls away, slows it down again, and Randy is almost, _almost_ reduced to begging but he catches himself before it happens because no matter _what_ he will never beg Wade Barrett for anything.

Amy pushes him back into a kneeling position, then slips in front of him again and licks her lips, reaches out and grasps his cock. The condom is still on from when he was fucking her earlier, and although Amy appears to consider it, she leaves it on. Randy knows he's clean, but he doesn't blame her for playing safe. Besides, she makes it up to him by leaning forward and wrapping her lips around him, and Randy doesn't have any words to describe the noise that comes out of his mouth. Wade thrusts forward again and he's buried deep in her throat, feeling the warmth and wetness, and her tongue playing on the underside of his dick and his fingers wind through her hair and then her hands shove his hips backwards, onto Wade, who is buried deep in him now and Randy groans and aches inside and feels his blood swirling and Wade pushes him forward again, and between them, the two set up a rhythm.

They chip away at his sanity with every thrust. Amy wraps her tongue around his dick ; Wade slows his thrusts to a torturous level. Amy's hand reaches out and plays with his balls; Wade tries some kind of movement that sets off fireworks in Randy's stomach. Amy moans around him; Wade speeds up again. Randy is cursing and his body is almost not his own. It is being devoured and destroyed by these two, being burnt from the inside out, being plied around as though he is their toy. And their hands are everywhere, on his dick, on his throat, his thighs, his balls, scraping across his ribs, scratching his biceps, and then there is biting and licking and sucking and Randy is falling to pieces in their arms, is being undone. The tightness in his balls is his body screaming that he's ready to come, but the silk strip is enough to stop it, and all the tension and control is draining from his muscles, his eyes are fluttering –

"Do you want to cum?" Amy asks, looking up at him, innocent eyes again. He can only nod.

"Beg me," Barrett whispers, hot breath on his ear and then he _licks_ and godamnit Randy has always had a thing for that, then there's the slightest hint of teeth on the earlobe and he moans and pushes back then forward wantonly but he will _not _ beg. He will not. He shakes his head furiously to dispel the traitorous protests of his cock telling him to give in. He hears Barrett laugh again and then – then he realises they've been playing all along, and they turn it up to eleven. Amy's mouth is back on him, tighter than before, faster, she's sucking harder and _whatthefuck_ how is she doing that, her tongue is flicking from side to side around him, faster than he could have imagined, and Barrett's got a grip on his hips that is just the right amount of painful and is pounding his ass so hard that Randy swears he'll have bruises tomorrow but the pleasure, the sheer sweetness of it all, means he doesn't give a damn. It's impossible to build anymore yet somehow they manage it, and Randy knows he's never been this turned on or this hard or this, this, desperate ever before, and Amy moans again and he moans, and Barrett simply says _I can do this all night_ and everything inside Randy shudders because he cannot take it, he just can't, this is too much, too intense, too good –

He takes one hand out of Amy's hair and goes to his cock, hoping to undo the damn strip himself, but Amy's got a grip around the base of him, is pumping him, jerking him off, and conveniently covering it under her fingers. She looks up at him and he gets the idea that if she didn't have a mouthful of his cock, she'd be grinning. She _swallows _around him and he whines deep in his throat. He raises the hand and he doesn't really know what he's doing with it but he reaches back over his shoulder for Barrett, and _ohfuckwhat_ his fingers are suddenly in Barrett's mouth, hot and tight and wet and Barrett is sliding his velvety tongue over the tips and that should not be a turn on but it is and for a moment he thinks he's going to cum despite that stupid thing on his cock but he _can't_ and it is the most awful thing and he lets out a sob. Barrett lets go of his fingers and Randy jerks sideways and grabs, finds himself with a fistful of Barrett's hair, pulls it, and Barrett's head is suddenly pressed against his shoulder as he pants _oh, yeah, _and that moment seems to last forever and ever and Randy's holding both of them and then Barrett nips his skin and he turns into a gibbering mess. So many mixed up words spill out of his mouth, grunts and groans and sighs and swears and things that there aren't even names for, noises that are needy and intimate and the only way he has of expressing himself, of trying to get out some of the pleasure that is threatening to build up and explode inside him, because _he cannot take this. _

He must have let go of Barrett's hair because suddenly the man's head is by his ear again and there's that hot, breathy command: _beg. _

And then Barrett's tongue swipes his earlobe, and Randy begs.

"_Please - !"_

And no sooner has the word passed his lips but the pressure around his cock is gone and he is coming, and the world bursts into stars, brilliant burning stars of every colour in the spectrum and it is glorious and every nerve is alight and all the muscles in his body convulse simultaneously and then melt, all the intense burning pleasure drains through his cock and leaves behind this sensation that tingles and rumbles like the whole earth is quaking, and Barrett's making all these noises in his ear and his thrusts are erratic and Randy knows he's coming too. Then there's dead weight on him and he leans forward onto Amy but is careful not to crush her, and Barrett's lying over on his back and he manages to hold his weight on his shaking arms for just long enough so that Amy wiggles out and then he collapses, facedown into the pillow, weakly rutting the mattress and gasping for air as the world starts to _be _ again.

"Fuck," says Wade, exhausted. "Oh, fuck."

Randy feels his weight lift and then the other man leaves him, pulls out and climbs off the bed and it's all Randy can do to try and keep his eyes open. He is boneless on the bed, and at the minute, just _existing _ is enough. Amy smiles at him pityingly.

"Yeah, I know that feeling. But it's a good one, right?"

Randy just looks at her. Then, very slowly, with a great amount of effort, he speaks.

"I'm sorry I hit you in the face," he slurs.

Amy waves it away. "Oh, don't worry about it. You made up for it with that show."

She nimbly climbs over Randy and slips off the bed.

"Besides, you hit like a girl."

Randy feels like he's being poked with a stick. He finds the strength to lift himself on his arms and turns to look at her incredulously. She's shimmying back into her skirt, paying him no mind. Barrett is just doing up the last buttons on that white shirt and he hands her the black bra that was thrown aside so long ago. She quickly slips it on but takes a moment to fumble with the hooks, cursing.

"We're going to be late," Wade warns her.

"I gotta pee," she replies, and hops through to the tiny en-suite bathroom on the right, still struggling to do her bra back up.

Randy sits up on the edge of the bed. "Late for your next...appointment?"

"Anniversary dinner," Wade replies, pretending to preen over his cuffs. He looks up sharply and catches Randy's expression, then smirks. "Wanna come?"

Randy snorts.

"I'm serious," Wade says lightly, returning to his cufflinks. Randy stands up and grabs his boxers, which had been laid over a chair with the rest of his normal clothes, so that he can do something instead of having to come up with an answer. He pulls them up, thinking.

He turns around, still not ready with an answer, to find Wade much closer. He automatically steps back, but Wade follows, and when he takes another step, there's a wall in the way.

"One more thing," Wade offers.

And then they're kissing. It's the first time Randy has ever had to tilt his head _up, _ but frankly he's just glad Wade didn't punch him like he expected – and then he realises he's kissing a _guy, _and he panics again, but Wade steps closer and presses him to the wall, one forearm braced against it aside Randy's head while he lifts his other hand and just touches Randy's jawline. So Randy opens his mouth and reaches his hands out and catches Wade's hips and he can't stop himself, he's kissing back, and it's so much slower and gentler than what went before but no less sensual. Wade's tongue dances across his and it's easier behind his closed eyes to just relax and enjoy it all. Because – and he's not surprised – it turns out that Wade is just good at pretty much everything sexual, and Randy risks it and drags Wade's bottom lip into his mouth, bites on it, soothes it over with his tongue again and –

"Can I film this?"

They break apart and look over at Amy, and her face turns from hopeful to slightly disappointed. She nods. "Right. Shouldn't have said anything."

Wade steps away and Randy stays lent against the wall just to be sure his knees won't give way. Amy grabs her shirt from the floor and yanks it over her head, then hops around on one foot trying to get her heels on while Wade watches, grinning, Without even having to look at him, she seems to know what he's doing, because she sticks a middle finger up in his general direction. Once both her feet are successfully in her heels (and she's about five inches taller) she lets out a satisfied sigh of accomplishment and turns to look at her boyfriend.

"Did you ask him?"

Wade nods. Amy turns to look at Randy.

"Well? You coming?"


End file.
